


I know the pieces fit 'cause I watched them fall away

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Brooklyn, I'm Sorry Sam, Kissing, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Story within a Story, Stucky - Freeform, The Author Regrets Everything, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, it's pretty psychological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7748947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey Buck?"<br/>"Yeah?"<br/>"You're hurting me."<br/>Bucky's face twists in surprise then cuts to the fingers white knuckling Steve's pale wrist.<br/>"Oh shit. I'm sorry. I thought-," he trails off.</p><p>[I thought the worst. That guy with the futuristic arm was chasing after you and I panicked.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know the pieces fit 'cause I watched them fall away

_so familiar and overwhelmingly warm_  
_this one, this form I hold now_  
_embracing you, this reality here_  
_this one, this form I hold now_  
_so wide eyed and hopeful_  
_wide eyed and hopefully wild_

_[[parabol](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzTCjC04T08)]_

Thunder rumbles in the distance as violet lightning flashes. There are no stars out tonight, no moon to mark their paths. It's almost like the world decided to take a deep breath and never exhaled.

"Home, Steve."

"But-"

"We have to go _now._ "

Steve stumbles and nearly falls flat on his face if not for Bucky casually grabbing the back of his thin jacket.

A siren wails; it sings a duet with the thunder. Both competing to see who would tear down the sky. Steve's bets are on the lightning but he could do without both, honestly.

" _STEVE._ "

Bucky's voice wavers as he treks back to grab Steve by a bony wrist and walks as quickly as he can.

"You're gonna get yourself killed someday if you keep daydreaming," Bucky chides.

A light flickers on above their apartment and it's eerie where it should be welcoming. As far as they knew, no one possessed enough human qualities to even care about stamping out the darkness. The majority of New York's population had been illegally experimented on without their permission. Drugs in the drinking water, an air born serum floating around in the smog. As a result they've turned bloodthirsty. They want the thrill of the chase - the burn of oxygen to starving lungs.

**_CRACK  
_ **

Lightning strikes an atrocious building by the name of Stark Inc and it catches ablaze. Steve drags along after Bucky, stopping to witness as flames devour the structure. Whoever the owner is, they're not going to be happy. Bucky gapes at it for half a second before practically tossing Steve into the apartment building and locking the door behind them.

One slides into place.

Two.

Three. 

The world has gone mad and it's possible that it'll buckle before 1945.

Bucky pants with back to the door. His forehead is clammy and one hand continues to hold onto Steve as he catches his breath.

In the midst of the chaos Steve could've sworn he saw a man with a metal arm and Bucky's face but it's stupid and impossible so he keeps it to himself.

"Hey Buck?" 

"Yeah?"

"You're hurting me."

Bucky's face twists in surprise then cuts to the fingers white knuckling Steve's pale wrist.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry. I thought-," he trails off.

_I thought the worst. That guy with the futuristic arm was chasing after you and I panicked._

"I'm not fragile ya'jerk." he says this as he places a hand over his heart and feels its irregular rhythm. An expression of pure anguish and worry comes over Bucky's face but he blinks it away before Steve can see. His best friend has enough to deal with his without adding to it. Not to mention how guilty he appears when Bucky asks how he's feeling. Bucky knows good and well that the deadpan _"I'm fine"_ is a straight out lie but he accepts it anyway.

"You don't hafta tell me that, pal. You've got nothing to prove. Didn't wanna bruise you is all."

Didn't want to hurt you, period.

Steve flinches when fists beat on the door from the outside. They both stare at it in horror, waiting for the inevitable.

"Upstairs," Bucky breathes.

Their apartment somehow manages to smell the same and carry the same innocence it once harbored before everything hit 90mph on a collision crash with one warped up version of reality. The sparse windows are plastered in sun faded newspaper, coffee cups rest in the sink, their beds are unmade. It's the only thing that's consistent.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Slide, click. The apartment is secured.

Having barricaded the entry way, Bucky turns to see an exhausted Steve with bags under his eyes. Skinny fingers roll a pencil around in his hand.

"I can't sketch," he mumbles and lets it fall to the floor.

Alright. Steve was getting too far up his own ass, he needed a distraction. Seeing as most of New York's eligible dames have inhaled the serum or are recovering from a breakup, that option is off the table. 

"Find me a match. Pretty sure they're in the icebox."

Steve shuffles over and rummages until his hands locate the tiny box.

"Here."

Outside, the smog and drug induced air fogs up. Enormous impossibly covered buildings disappear in plain sight. If they hadn't proofed the building prior to the impending catastrophe they would've been victims of heinous medical experimentation as well. If they hadn't kept their mouths and noses covered when leaving...

The thought of it makes Bucky's stomach roil. He'd sacrifice himself for Steve. Hell he'd even build an alter and splay across it if it meant keeping Steve from doing something stupid things like trying to save what remained of New York. That in itself would be a suicide mission. 

And, of course, that's why they'd been outside in the first place.

The match forms a delicate and fragile flame. With a hand in front of it, Bucky lights the shoddy candles he'd picked up at a five & dime store months ago. He can't rush in and save the day this time but he can protect his best friend.

 _More than a friend,_ his brain supplies. 

Not yet. All in due time.

 

An uneven chorus of voices scream over one another outside of the building. _"MISSION!,"_ they shriek.

Jesus Christ they thought they were military or at least a high ranking assassin with an important mission.

Bucky grits his teeth and drops onto their couch. It's a horrendous piece of furniture and the foam had gone flat long ago.

Bucky had strolled in from work with it one day; proud as punch as he announced that they'd no longer have to sit on the floor. Steve couldn't bring himself to say a bad thing about it.

A voice in the crowd stands out and Steve rushes to the window, peels back a few inches of the paper.

_No.  
_

Sam Wilson. He'd met the guy while standing in line with chest bared at the recruitment office. Steve had received a 4F for his troubles and Sam was already out, having served at least 5 years. They'd hit it off immediately but Sam didn't care much for Bucky. The feeling was mutual.

The expression on his face matches the blank glare of the others around them. His shirt is stained with blood and dirt and he's _not_ the person Steve remembers.

"God," Steve says as he releases the paper.

"What?," Bucky questions. His voice teeters between sheer panic and worry. He nervously runs a hand through the slick on his hair and unintentionally causes it to fall onto his forehead. Steve's fingers itch to touch.

Not now, his brain reminds. 

But when? It's honest to God the end of the world outside.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

"It's Sam."

Bucky's face pales. Sure, they'd lost neighbors to this manufactured one sided war but never anyone they'd known on a first name basis. 

"Is he?"

Steve nods.

Fuck.

What exactly do you say to someone whose close friend had recently joined the ranks of the vengeful walking experiments?

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's not much but it's better than saying nothing at all.

Steve's face is a perfect portrait of sadness and Bucky can't stand it when he looks that way.

"Come'ere," he offers, patting the space beside of him on the couch.

The constant tug of war must be getting to Steve because he doesn't even try to argue about needing to do _something_ about this. The couch barely sinks under the weight of his slender body.

 

A man in the crowd outside screams _"YOU'RE MY MISSION!"_ and it sends chills down Steve's back. He almost sounds like...

Impossible. Bucky is taking up too much space on the couch beside of him. He's  **here**. So why does the man's voice sound like _his_ _?_

The candles flicker and throw shadows upon the wall. Any other time Steve would've welcomed them especially with Bucky sitting close enough that their thighs are touching but not now. They represent a dwindling hope.

"Hey," Bucky says, nudging Steve's shoulder with his own.

"Hmm?"

"Lets play a game." 

What a horrible idea. Steve almost always runs out of patience halfway though and it's not fun. Still he finds himself asking:

"What kind of game?"

Lightning casts the sky in electric blue. It makes Steve want to paint.

Perhaps portrait of Bucky in cool colors?

Or a pencil sketch with the blue of his eyes being the only hue?

"It's something I learned at the docks. You'll like it, I swear."

Steve relents because he can practically feel the nerves in his body vibrating and it's not pleasant.

"One game," Steve states.

No more than that. 

 

**_CRASH_ **

 

Another peal of thunder fills the apartment and Steve inches closer. It isn't that he's afraid. He has taken on bullies 3x his size and came out swinging but this is not a back alley and nature is cruel.

"It doesn't have a name but you sorta trade questions back and forth with two choices. I'll give you an example. Say I went with "Would you rather kiss Sally McPhearson or old man Bowers" you'd pick one then ask your own question."

It has the potential to be fun but also embarrassing.

Also, ewww.

"I get to go first," Steve states.

He stretches out on the couch and puts his head in Bucky's lap. It's nothing huge, this. It had became a thing when they were 10 years old and Steve was crying over his parents fighting. Fingers immediately card through his hair and he hates to soil the moment with a question but alas.

"Would you rather...I'm thinking. Um. Would you rather get that serum in your body or stay like you are right now?"

It was a very hazardous solution but it gave its victims at least 5" in height and doubled their muscles. They were gorgeous though lethal. Not that Bucky needs help in the beauty department. He doesn't even have to try. Steve would be thrilled with a 2" boost in height and for his muscles to do something more than mock him.

"Stay like I am right now."

"Really?"

"Yep." 

"Hmm. Okay it's your turn."

Bucky stretches his legs, turns over ideas in his head.

"For five bucks would you kiss a dog or a guy?"

Wow. 

Steve's not sure how to answer that question. Obviously he'd go with the latter but it's more true than Bucky would've guessed.

"Depends on who it is."

Bucky clucks his tongue and shakes his head disapprovingly.

Glass shatters outside followed by the sound of muffled screaming. They'd turned on one another.

"That's not how it goes. Which one?"

Steve averts his eyes and watches the candles shadows play upon the wall. That one almost looks like a tortoise.

"Steve."

"What?"

"Pick.one."

"Geez, okay. The last one."

 Bucky's eyebrows shoot up followed by laughter.

"Alright I'll give you that one. I went too easy on you. Your turn."

 

The man with Bucky's voice begins to shout angry words in Russian. His speech mixes with choppy English but the name _Rogers_ rolls off of his tongue. Steve has heard his last name recited just like _that_ since he and Bucky were children. He knows that voice.

Bucky instinctively reaches out for him and barely latches onto a handful of t-shirt as Steve barrels on over to the window. His impulses border on stupidity and they've been giving Bucky a headache for most of their life.

"It's _him_ ," Steve announces. He rips a jagged piece of newspaper and openly stares.

He's a goddamn target like this. 

_"MISSIYA!"_

The man with the metal arm growls. He begins to storm toward the buildings door and Steve jerks away from the window just as Bucky yanks on his shirt for the second time.

"Buck," Steve breathes.

"I know, Steve...I know."

They sink to the floor, backs against the wall. Bucky clutches his head and his entire body begins to tremble. The last time Steve saw him this tore up was when his mother had passed unexpectedly. She'd went in her sleep and even though he wasn't quite nine yet, Steve thought that she must've found peace in the final minutes of her life. Her cheeks had been pink and plump the way he'd remembered them. He'd told himself that she was only napping. Bucky hadn't taken it well. He'd refused to eat for days at a time and had slept with her favorite linen hankerchief for weeks - the one with yellow rows of thread and pastel pink birds.

He never knows what to do with his hands in situations like this. His own mother had comforted him by drawing simple sweeping patterns across his skin when he was upset or sick. When he and Bucky were seven he'd cupped a hand and whispered in Bucky's ear: _my ma is magical._ She'd had the remarkable ability to calm him when it felt like the world had it out for him.

If only it were true. 

"Gimme your hand."

Without lifting his head, Bucky carelessly drops his arm onto Steve's legs.

"Magic," Steve whispers as he draws elongated circle 8's along the veins on Bucky's inner wrist.

They do not speak for a long time as the noise continues outside.

"It's still your turn," Bucky says.

Steve thinks.

"Umm. How about...having your picture in a museum or dying as a nobody?"

"That's pretty dark, Steve."

"But you have to answer it. Rules are rules."

Bucky groans and leans his head back against the wall.

"You're a punk, y'know that?"

Steve moves on to the sensitive inner part of Bucky's elbow and skims his fingertips over. The movement causes goosebumps to cover the area and Steve can't help but smile. They're trapped in an apartment building like rats in a cage, food is scarce, the air outside is tainted, there's a very dangerous man with Bucky's face and voice who appears to be harboring a grudge against him. It's a literal hell outside and the mobs rage burns hot as the Earth's core. Yet here he is with Bucky's arm resting on his thighs, playing a game hes never even heard of and _smiling._

Life is strange.

He pinches Bucky's arm just to make sure that he's the real deal.

"Ow. What the shit, Steve?"

Still the same 'ol Bucky with dirty mouth and a head for numbers.

"Jerk," Steve mutters.

There is a rule of thumb that Steve lives his life by: always mask your concern and do not wear your heart on your sleeve. If you do, others will exploit your weakness and eat you alive. Name calling works. 

"Answer it."

Bucky takes his arm back and gingerly rubs the area. "Repeat the question."

"Would you," Steve pauses for dramatic effect. "-rather have your picture in a museum _OR_ die as a nobody?"

 

  _"ROGERS!"  
_

The ghost beckons, voice rough and irate. How does the man know his name? Who _is_ he?

"DON'T," Bucky warns. As a precautionary measure, he throws a leg over Steve's. In order to get up, Steve will have to push it off. He can do it but somehow this move always keeps him pinned down though Bucky isn't _that_ heavy.

"He knows me, Buck."

"I don't care if he knows your grandma's secret cookie recipe, you're staying with me," Bucky growls. 

If not for the heat behind his words he'd be a perfect match for the man's indignant voice.

Steve's shoulders sag in defeat. "He's going to find a way up here."

"Stop talking like that. We're gonna be alright."

They weren't going to die in this hellscape, Bucky would make sure of it.

"Yeah."

A change of subject is in order. "So anyway, it's my turn to answer. I would rather die as a nobody."

He pauses.

" 'long as I got you by my side I don't care how my life ends. Most I could hope for would be for at least one person to tell the world that we went down with a fight."

To drive the point home, Bucky squeezes Steve's shoulder. It's reassurance that they're in this together until the bloody end. Steve is stuck with him until the end of the line.

Steve hmpt's at the idea of either of them leaving the other behind. "Like I'd go somewhere without you." 

If an afterlife exists, he's not checking in alone.

"Okay, okay. Enough of the mush," Bucky teases as he lightly shoves Steve's shoulder.

Steve tells himself that they'll have plenty of time for that later. Hours, weeks, months from now. They'll be alive and that's what he clings to.

 

"Your turn."

Bucky closes his eyes and the space between his eyes furrow as he considers. 

"Would you rather...," he begins. Three words into the sentence and he's already rolling his head to the side to face Steve's. It's too bad that Steve doesn't possess the capability to read minds or he'd know to tilt his head in Bucky's direction.

"...kiss... _me_ or...Natalia?"

Oh boy. That's a bold question.

As for Natalia, Steve had never thought of their mutual friend in that manner. Sure she's a stunner and her deep red hair would cause anyone to do a double take. Not to mention how she moves with the litheness of a well taught ballerina but no. She's practically a sister to him.

Again with the trick questions. What was Bucky's deal with the kissing hypotheticals?

Steve's skin feels tingly and hot, itching for touch yet forcing it away. He stands and wanders to the window once more, carefully this time.

Bucky doesn't bother fighting him. Everyone knows that if Steve Rogers wants to do something he will, regardless.

The man had returned to his post, smack in the middle of the crowd. His emotionless eyes bore into Steve's yet he didn't speak nor make any noise for that matter. Or perhaps he had and the surrounding mob had drowned out his voice. A streak of lightning paints his cheekbones in pale white. They're more defined than _his_ Bucky's and the roundness of his face appears to no longer exist. He's beautiful in the way black roses are: mysterious and veiled in shadow.

"You," Steve answers without breaking eye contact.

_Any version of you._

The candlelight flickers and burns out, leaving the apartment pitch black.  The man disappears. 

Bucky's palm finds Steve's and they watch the madness together. "Why not Natalia?"

This could be Steve's last chance to put it all out there. By every account, they're fated to lose. Why shouldn't Romeo and Juliet taste the poison together?

He allows his head to fall back on Bucky's chest and shakily replies. "I don't want her."

Fingers dance along the smooth column of his throat. "Who do you want?"

The name is on the tip of Steve's tongue. Him. You. Bucky.

Thunder rattles the windows as he turns to face his past, present, future. 

He's leaning in to have that long awaited kiss when the downstairs door splinters against the weight of an inhuman hand.

 _"Bucky,"_ Steve whispers as they stare in horror at the bolted door to their apartment. If the man could easily break through heavy locks then this really was the end of the line for them.

 

He's moving across the room before he even realizes he's doing it. It's almost like sleepwalking or perhaps a compass magnetically drawn to its true north.

"STEVE!," Bucky calls from behind him. He reaches out but his hand ghosts through thin air where it should've landed on an arm. He desperately reaches for any part of Steve. When it hangs uselessly in the air, he lets out a guttural scream because this _can't_ be happening.

He watches in horror as the apartment door collides with the floor and a stocky figure steps through. It's like looking into a mirror only...the man is missing his left arm and its been replaced with something out of a science fiction comic. Bucky gropes at his flesh and blood arm and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds that it's still present.

"ROGERS!"

This sickeningly morose version of himself narrows in on Steve. His shoulders are muscled and broad, left arm metallic and whirring. Blue eyes appear foreboding as they glint in the murky room. Black leather covers his chest and right arm. The combination of black on black would cause Steve's poor eyesight to nearly miss him if it wasn't for the loud entrance and his bulk towering over Steve's angular frame.

"STEVE!!!," Bucky yells.

Tears sting his eyes as Steve squeaks at the man - "Buck?"  

The man flinches as if the name had caused him actual pain and, choosing not to dwell upon it, he advances on Steve.

"Ty moya missiya," a cold voice states, flatly.

Missiya.

Mission?

Of course. The man had used the word earlier. Bucky doesn't understand.

Steve, the brave idiot, stands his ground. "Y-you know me. I'm not Rogers, I'm Steve. Y-you're my...friend. You kissed me once...almost."

Mere minutes before.

 

Barnes (the other Bucky), considers then discards the notion. "YOU'RE MY MISSION!"

He curls a metallic hand around Steve's throat and Bucky's going to be sick. His stomach lurches as he turns away. How the fuck did this happen? Why didn't Steve listen?

"Y-you...l-l-love...me," Steve forces out.

"Steve." Bucky sobs, brokenly. Because he does, so much. He always has.

But Steve cannot hear him.

Barnes growls and clutches harder. "NO!"

Steve's hands wrap around the metal hand and he tries to pull it away. He could kick and claw but he doesn't. 

Why isn't he fighting back?

Bucky pours his remaining strength into words. "GODDAMMIT STEVE, I KNOW YOU CAN DO THIS!" 

Fight back. Please.

Barnes drops Steve and begins to edge away from his limp body. He falls to his knees and begins to shake with heaping sobs.

Had he actually heard him? 

"SAVE HIM," Bucky calls as loudly as he can. If Steve means anything to Barnes at all, he'll hear Bucky's desperate plea. 

Barnes wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and crouches next to Steve. He leans in and presses his ear against a bony chest, hears the rattled strained breathing. He's alive.

"STEVE," Bucky cries.

Barnes gathers Steve in his arms and alternates between repeating _Steve_ and _Stiv._ It is both an eternity and a minute or two before Steve begins to cough violently.

Fuck.

His medicine remains where he'd left it: on the floor beside of his bed. The place that Bucky can't escape from. Steve is getting paler by the minute and gasping like a fish out of water. He's going to _die._

A flash of dazzling lightning reflects the concern and confusion upon Barnes' face.

Bucky watches in horror as the man pulls out a syringe and injects it into a weakening blue vein. 

 

Oh god.

The man-

Himself-

Bucky-

Barnes-

He's **killing** Steve.

The room spins and Bucky forces himself to breathe evenly, in and out.

For one heart-stoppingly terrifying moment, Steve doesn't move. The split versions of Bucky watch anxiously.

And then he breathes, chest rising and falling shallowly.

"Missio- _Steve_ ," Barnes cries.

"Steve," Bucky gasps.

Even if they're worlds apart, even if they'll never die together it doesn't matter. He'll carve out the heart in his chest and live a hollowed out shell if it means Steve lives; if this version of himself can save Steve. 

A weak hand reaches up to bury itself in Barnes' tangled shoulder length mess of hair.

"Buck." 

Barnes freezes. He's caught somewhere between completing the mission and raging against the part of himself that was programmed to kill. Before he has a chance to do either, Steve grunts in pain. His body begins to shake violently and is it...working? 

This particular serum varies greatly from the airborn one which was designed to turn humans into weapons. If it works correctly, Steve will live and it will elevate the good in him. He won't turn bloodthirsty and corrupt.

The muscles expand, lanky shins and pointy elbows fill with mass. Bucky's mouth hangs open as he watches the person he loves transform before his eyes. It takes less than five minutes and Barnes seems as dumbfounded as Bucky. The syringe drops to the floor and he stands motionless with shock.

Had the jerk injected Steve with an unknown serum? If Bucky could get his hands on Barnes there would be nothing left but a blood stain on the floor.

When Steve speaks once more, his voice is no longer strangled. It comes out confident, deeper.

 

"Am I dead?"

Barnes shakes his head no. His eyes give Steve a slow once-over and linger on his neck.

There are no fingertip bruises. No imprint of a metal hand.

It's then that Bucky notes the absence of commotion outside. It's as if the world has been muted. As Barnes cautiously steps toward Steve, Bucky edges toward the window.

It's impossible. The mob of people have dissipated. Not a soul remains. 

"I thought you were dead," Barnes whispers.

Steve stands and places a hand on his neck. It's thicker where it was once slender and it doesn't come as a shock to him. 

"Buck...you found me. How?" 

Bucky walks forward until he's close enough to touch. He stands to the side of Barnes and Steve as if he were an unwelcome third wheel.

Outside, the sky gradually fades into sunshine and lights up the shabby Brooklyn apartment.

It takes one touch for Steve to crumble. Barnes brushes his knuckles over a much wider jawline and Steve falls to his knees. Body shaking with decades of pain. He's coming undone at the seams and doesn't notice that Bucky fades away altogether. 

"I...I don't know."

At some point the Winter Soldier had slipped away and Bucky had returned. He'd stopped calling Steve his mission, his words came out in plain English and most of all he recognized Steve. And himself for that matter.

Bucky wraps both arms around Steve's bulk and sobs along with him. Sunlight glints off of his arm and he remembers something. He'd asked Steve an important question before the door, the serum.

He turns his face into Steve's neck and whispers. "Who do you want?"

Steve pulls back, eyes puffy and red. He gazes into crystal blue eyes. They do not match the man in the crowds. They're wet with tears and _love._

 

_"Why not Natalia?"_

_"I don't want her."_

_"Who do you want?"  
_

 

"You," Steve answers.

This is not Barnes. He is not the Winter Soldier. He is **Bucky** in a much larger body and they'd left off during an important moment.

He closes the space between them and wastes no time in burying both hands in Bucky's hair.

"You, you, you," he repeats. Each one is followed by a kiss to tear dampened cheeks.

Bucky grins and places a palm on Steve's chest.

"Hold up a sec. I've got a question." 

"Yeah?"

"Would you rather..."

Steve groans.

"Lose everything and keep me or reversed?"

How is that even a question. What Steve wants to say is: _There is **nothing** I wouldn't do to keep you _ but who wants to talk about setting the world ablaze and possibly waging a war? That's too upfront.

"The first one."

Bucky been expecting the worst. He's one person in a sea of countless others whose love for Steve would come as easy as breathing. Why him? 

"You sure about that?"

 Steve juts his chin up and there's a hint of tiny defiant Steve in the gesture.

"I'll prove it." 

He presses their lips together for the first time and it's so much better than he'd imagined. Bucky's arms snake around him and there's no way he could've held tiny Steve with such force.

Just as he's moving in for the kill - he's going to deepen the kiss, Bucky pulls back.

"You love me," he states. 

Steve blinks.

Ah, that.

_"Y-you...l-l-love...me."_

He takes Bucky's hand and traces shapes along his inner wrist. Calm.

"Why wouldn't I?"

In lieu of listing countless reasons why Steve should stay as far away from him as possible, Bucky kisses him. His lips are chapped and dry along Steve's but the kiss is slow and sensual. Heartbreaking in how easily they fit together. 

 

Steve's phone rings.

He wakes in his D.C. apartment alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I APOLOGIZE, I'VE NO EXCUSE FOR THIS HEAP OF DARK SADNESS. I don't think y'all know how much I hold back when I write, ahah. I try not to write them like this but ooooh it's not easy. also I know it's terribly confusing but all of this is steve's head trying to make sense of everything - the past and the present. he's trying to mesh both bucky's and it's brutal. the timelines are skewed on purpose. 
> 
> I could've given this a happy ending but I'd rather leave it open. btw steve is mid-hunting for bucky with sam which is why sam made a surprise appearance. steve has some deep down fears. I'm telling you, the boys a trainwreck. 
> 
> song title is by tool and it really fits them in this fic


End file.
